The Sacrifice Page #2

I mean, that we didn't live there

in that house under the pines,

so close to the sea.

How beautiful it was!

I knew that if I lived there,

I'd be happy until I died.

Hm? What's wrong? Don't be afraid.

There is no such thing as death.

No, there's the fear of death,

and that is an awful fear.

Sometimes it even makes people

do things they shouldn't.

But how different things would be

if only we could stop fearing death!

Huh? Oh, I was talking

about something else... Ah, yes.

As I was saying, we were enchanted

as we took in the beauty of it.

We couldn't tear ourselves away.

The peace, the stillness...

And...

it was plain that this house

was meant just for us.

It turned out to be for sale, too.

What a miracle!

And you were born in this house.

Do you like it?

Do you like it, your house?

Eh, my boy?

Man has defended himself, always

against other men, against Nature.

He has constantly violated Nature.

The result is a civilisation built

on force, power, fear, dependence.

All our "technical progress"

has only provided us

with comfort, a sort of standard.

And instruments of violence

to keep power. We are like savages!

We use the microscope like a cudgel!

No, that's wrong.

Savages are more spiritual than us!

As soon as we make

a scientific breakthrough

we put it to use

in the service of evil.

And as for the standard,

some wise man once said

that sin

is that which is unnecessary.

If that is so,

then our entire civilisation

is built on sin,

from beginning to end.

We have acquired

a dreadful disharmony

an imbalance, if you will,

between our material

and our spiritual development.

Our culture is defective.

I mean, our civilisation.

Basically defective, my boy!

Perhaps you mean

that we ought to study the problem

and look for a solution together.

Perhaps we could, if it wasn't

so late. Altogether too late.

God, how weary I am of this talk!

"Words, words, words!"

At last, I know what Hamlet meant.

He was fed up with windbags.

And so am I. Why do I talk this way?

If only someone could stop talking

and DO something instead!

Or at least try to.

Little Man!

Little Man!

Dear God, what's wrong with me?

Fantastic!

Such remarkable refinement!

Such wisdom and spirituality!

Also such pure, childlike innocence.

At once profound, yet virginal.

It's unbelievable!

Like a prayer.

And all this has been lost.

We can't even pray any longer.

I had a rotten day today.

Or rather, a day I lost control of.

Thank you, Victor.

A splendid book!

Thanks for the wine, too.

We'll have it later.

Above all, thanks for coming!

Have you...

never felt

that your life was a failure?

No. Why?

I once felt exactly that way.

But since Little Man came along,

all that has changed.

Not all at once, of course.

A bit at a time as he grew bigger.

I'm very attached to him,

too much, I'm afraid.

But there is something

in all this that I resent.

I prepared myself for a life,

a higher life, so to speak.

I studied philosophy,

the history of religion, aesthetics.

And I ended up

putting myself in chains,

of my own free will.

But at the same time, I'm happy.

Today, for example...

What happened today?

I got a telegram from my friends.

As a joke, they signed it:

"Richardians and Idiotists".

Old theatre friends. We played

Shakespeare and Dostoyevsky.

- I remember!

- No!

- Remember what?

- Those performances.

- Oh, come now!

- Yes, I do!

I remember how you dropped

that vase from the tray and broke it!

And your eyes were full of tears.

I remember it well.

The vase, too.

It was white, with blue flowers.

That's right! She does remember!

But those tears meant nothing.

I had something in my eye.

It hurt so, I didn't think

I'd get through the performance.

Alexander was superb

as Prince Myschkin.

That role made you!

And then you just gave it all up.

The theatre, the lot!

You threw away everything

after Richard III and The Idiot.

I don't know why.

- What "everything"?

- Hm?

What do you mean by "everything"?

The theatre.

Everything!

"Success", that's what you mean!

As it happens,

theatre isn't "everything"!

I couldn't take it any more.

What do you mean?

Well...

For some reason, I started

feeling embarrassed on stage.

I was ashamed to impersonate someone

else, to play others' emotions.

But worst of all, I was ashamed

of being honest on stage.

It was a critic who first saw that.

But it wasn't sudden, not at all.

So you mean that an actor

may not keep his ego intact?

That he must lose his identity?

No, not quite.

What I mean is that an actor's

identity dissolves in his roles.

I didn't want my ego dissolved.

There was something in it

that struck me as sinful,

something feminine and weak.

Aha! Feminine!

So that's what's sinful!

I liked you as an actor, so you quit.

That's it!

- I don't know. That might be it.

- No, that was it!

I said it might be.

- Always the last word!

- She'll be the death of him!

Please, not today!

It's Alexander's birthday!

Thanks for defending me, Victor.

In other words,

first he seduced me with his acting.

Then he lured me from London

and abandoned me!

But I liked being

the great actor's wife.

Forgive me, but I saw no harm in it!

Who's that, now?

By the way, Alexander,

I'll soon be leaving.

Leaving?

Leaving all this.

Has something happened?

I've been offered a clinic

in Australia.

Are you serious?

You must tell me about it later.

It's Otto, the postman.

He's carrying something!

Julia! Your beau's come calling!

Good evening!

- Many happy returns!

- Thanks.

Here I am, and here's

a kind of present for you.

Thank you very much! What is it?

I don't think I can do this alone.

It's a map of Europe,

from the late 1 600s.

Is it genuine?

How could it be?

It must be a copy, a reproduction.

No, not at all!

It's genuine, an original!

- How could anyone...

- Is it possible?

How beautiful it is!

We must take it inside. Come, now!

But it's far too dear a gift.

I don't know if I...

Oh, God, don't say that!

But it's far too much!

Too much, Otto!

I know it's no sacrifice, but...

And why shouldn't it be?

Of course it's a sacrifice!

Every gift involves a sacrifice.

If not, what kind of gift

would it be?

Excuse me...

Otto. My name is Otto.

Oh.

Excuse me, Otto.

What are you doing in these parts?

I hear you haven't lived here long.

Smoke?

Once I went to the morgue

and saw the autopsied corpse...

of a man who had smoked

all his life. I saw his lungs.

I haven't smoked since.

Hear that, Alexander?

Yes, you're absolutely right.

I've only lived here two months.

Before then, I taught history

at a secondary school.

But when I took my pension,

I moved here.

And here I am.

Nowadays, I have fewer expenses

and more time for my interests.

My sister used to live here.

She's dead now.

I understand you're employed

by the post office.

Yes, I'm a postman.

But not regularly.

Only in my spare time.

Hello, Maria!

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